


Sudden Death

by BreakfastTea



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, hunts gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 10:01:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18280856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakfastTea/pseuds/BreakfastTea
Summary: When Noctis is attacked by Reapers, his magic rushes to his aid. But when it threatens to burn him up from the inside out, his friends must decide if they should stay where they are or try and break through countless daemons to reach safety.





	Sudden Death

**Author's Note:**

> Fanfic Friday #2! Hope you enjoy, anon <3 I kinda took a few liberties with the idea of Noct getting sick and decided to inflict a curse or two on him instead. Hope that's okay!

“You sure you can handle this, lads?” Takka asked. “I don’t wanna send you out to your deaths.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” Noctis said, finishing his green tea. “We’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you,” Takka said. “We can’t leave Reapers out there. They’ve taken too many lives already. You finish them off, and I promise I’ll have a feast ready for you when you get back.”

Prompto bounced out of his seat. “Let’s get this hunt over with. I’m hungry already!”

Together, they headed back to the car. Darkness gathered at the sky’s edges as Ignis took the wheel and drove them to the Keycatrich Channels where Reapers lurked in the old, abandoned city. Local Hunters hadn’t had much luck yet, and Noctis didn’t want to leave such deadly daemons alive for any longer than necessary.

Parking at the Prairie Outpost, Noctis and his friends headed into the ruined city. Night had fallen now, and while all was quiet, it wouldn’t be long before the daemons stirred. The shells of derelict buildings loomed over them, scars of a hard-fought war. Noctis tried to imagine what this place had been like before, when people with busy lives rushed down the streets. It was hard to imagine when only walls and wrecked tankers remained. So much death. Noctis shivered. No wonder Reapers found a home for themselves here. They walked on, searching for their prey.

Twenty minutes later, they still had nothing.

“Anyone see anything?” Gladio asked, voice low.

“Nothing,” Ignis said.

“Can’t hear anything either,” Prompto added.

Noctis stopped. They’d never see anything from ground level. “Stay here,” he said, pulling his weapon from the Armiger. He launched it at the nearest, tallest wall and warped. Looking around, Noctis peered through the shadows, looking for any sign of the Reapers.

There! In the ruins of an old factory. Five Reapers.

And they weren’t alone.

There was another Hunter there. A Reaper slashed at her, knocking her gun out of her hands before she could fire off a single shot. She cried out and fell to the ground. Noctis watched, horrified, as the Reapers swarmed.

“There!” Noctis pointed. “North west area!” The others turned. They’d never see what he could see from their position, and Noctis wouldn’t waste another second. His eyes locked onto a Reaper. “Catch up.” He launched himself into a Warp Strike before the others could protest.

Noctis’ attack took out one of the Reapers. Four remained. The Hunter didn’t move. She stayed, crumpled, on her stomach. Heart pounding, fear catching the back of his throat, Noctis didn’t have time to check on her. The Reapers swung their scythes at his head. He ducked low, sword swinging in an uppercut to catch the blades. He intercepted two. It wasn’t enough. One bit into his shoulder. Another caught his chest.

Icy coldness pierced him. Time slowed as Noctis stared at the wounds, watching his blood spilling across rusted, daemonic blades. Dark magic swept through his veins. Sudden Death. His heart stuttered until his own magic rushed to meet it, two powerful forces clashing inside him.

Adrenaline swept all the pain away, giving him a desperate boost. He yanked a Magic Flask out of the Armiger and launched it at the Reapers. Firaga consumed the two he’d successfully blocked, leaving just his two attackers.

Noctis tried to raise his sword. His arm didn’t respond. The Reapers’ attacks had numbed his right arm. Pulling another Flask out of the Armiger, Noctis launched it with his left hand. The Time-laced Blizzard spell Stopped the Reapers long enough for Noctis to reach the Hunter’s side.

It was too late. Not even a Phoenix Down would bring her back now. He couldn’t tell if the death spells or the slashes to her chest and abdomen had killed her. Heart aching, guilt twisted his insides. If only he’d been faster. If only he’d thought of a better attack and not taken two hits…

The Stop spell faltered. The Reapers moved. Noctis turned, gripping his sword in his left hand. Anger gave him strength. He swung hard. It was a sloppy blow, but it forced the Reapers to retreat.

For a second. One fell further back, dark magic gathering as its partner slashed at Noctis again. He couldn’t block the blow and took another slash to the chest, this one slicing through his t-shirt. He fell back, crashing hard against the old factory’s floor. The unwelcome, alien magic dug deeper into his veins. It pushed back against his magic, regaining the upper hand. Three Sudden Deaths spells wove together, trying to pull him down. Weakened, Noctis couldn’t raise his sword, couldn’t focus long enough to pull anything out of the Armiger.

The Reaper saw its chance to take another hit.

“Noct!”

A flurry of bullets signalled the Reapers’ end. Prompto wasn’t messing around. Noctis slumped, relieved the battle was over.

Or, at least, partly over.

Darkness flitted at the corners of his vision. He felt the blood oozing out of his wounds. He shivered, cold tingles racing through his body. His breath echoed in his ears as the world around him fell away. A black tide of Death magic clawed at him. There were voices in that magic, whispered cries and screams of agony, like the Reapers’ held onto the memories of their victims. Noctis clamped his hands over his ears, but it didn’t help. The Crystal pulled at him, giving him strength as it pushed its way through the curses trying to kill him. The Crystal wanted him to sleep so it could take all the energy he had to keep him from succumbing. Not yet. He couldn’t sleep here, in the middle of nowhere with no hope of safety. His head rolled to the side. The dead Hunter stared back, her grey eyes still wide with horror. Sorrow squeezed Noctis’ heart. She’d only wanted to help people. Instead, she was dead. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t –

“Noct!” Prompto cried out. He ran over. “What’s wrong? Are you… oh, crap, those wounds look nasty. Hang on.”

Digging into his pocket, Prompto pulled out a Hi Potion. He cracked it open. The curative was slow to work, Noctis’ magic being so focused on keeping him alive. His head pounded, made worse by Prompto’s flashlight shining in his face. He barely made it onto his side before he threw up.

“Did you hit your head?” Prompto asked, rubbing his back. “Whoa, Noct! You feel like you’re on fire!”

On fire? He was cold. Too cold.

Footsteps ran over. “We need to move,” Gladio said. “There are more daemons out there, including an Iron Giant. Look alive, Noct. We need to move fast.”

Noctis opened his eyes, only to slam them shut again. “Your light’s too bright.” He had to turn away. He reached up and turned off his own. Anything to stop it from stabbing his brain.

“What?” Gladio asked.

“He took a few hits from the Reapers,” Prompto said.

“Shit, Sudden Death?” Gladio asked.

“I dunno,” Noctis said. “Something. The Crystal’s reacting to it. Pushing back.” Talking wasn’t helping the headache.

“We need to get out of here,” Prompto said. “Noct’s burning up.”

“I’m really not,” Noctis said, shivering violently.

A hand landed on his forehead. “Yes, you really are,” said Ignis. “You think this is your magic fighting off the Reapers’ Sudden Death spell?”

“Yeah,” Noctis said.

“Like a fever when you’re sick?” Prompto asked.

“Sure.” He really needed them to stop asking him questions. Besides, it was hard to hear them over all the dead people whispering and screaming in his head.

“We can’t stay,” Ignis said. “We need to get to safety. That fever is dangerous. We’re going to need to do something about it.”

What fever? Noctis felt like he’d cast Blizzaga on himself.

“We’re not going anywhere. Did you miss the part where I said there was an Iron Giant?” Gladio snapped.

Noctis tried to open his eyes again. His friends’ flashlights scalded him. He slammed them shut again.

“Quieter, please,” Noctis said. He didn’t need them arguing on top of the screaming in his head. Everything was making the headache so, so, so much worse. Tears swelled against his eyelids. He couldn’t start crying. Not out here.

“We need to bring this fever down,” Ignis said. “Are there any ice-based Flasks in the Armiger?”

“Maybe?” Noctis had no idea what Ignis wanted to do.

“A Flask will make an excellent cold compress until we reach safety,” Ignis said.

“Oh.”

Noctis felt Ignis pull a Flask free of the Armiger, a physical tug deep inside his body. It took longer than usual to materialise.

“That’s not right,” Ignis said.

Noctis couldn’t find the energy to respond. The exhaustion stepped up a notch, the magic drain like the worst Stasis he’d ever experienced.

A cold Flask pressed against his hand. “Hold it against your head,” Ignis said.

Shivering so much it sent his stomach churning, Noctis carefully shook his head.

“Prompto’s right; you’re practically on fire,” Ignis said. “You need to bring this fever down. You must trust me. Your body won’t be able to withstand this forever.”

Ignis would never lie to him. Noctis reached for it blindly. Cold glass touched his hand. He pressed it to his head, wincing at its bitter touch. He drifted for a moment, tossed about on a of familiar and horribly strange magic. The Crystal regrouped, its light pushing back. But the death magic was tenacious, and wasn’t letting go easily.

“What’s going on with the Armiger?” Ignis asked, pulling him back to the outside world.

“Too much magic. Can’t concentrate,” Noctis said. He didn’t have the strength to give his friends their usual connection to the Armiger. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open. “Sorry,” he breathed.

“We can’t use the Armiger?” Prompto asked. “My guns are in there.”

“Everything’s in there,” Gladio said. “Shit!”

“What do we do?” Prompto said. “There’re daemons everywhere out there.”

“We stay here,” Ignis said. “Our position is defensible.”

“Defensible with what?” Prompto asked.

Noctis waved the flask. “You’ve got this,” he said through chattering teeth. It was really weird talking with his eyes shut, but he couldn’t risk opening them while their lights were on. It was too much, too painful.

“Can we risk taking anything else?” Ignis asked.

Noctis thought about it. The Crystal’s magic, his magic, struggled against the numerous Reapers’ spells, holding dark curse magic back while also trying to wipe it out. Every time something came out of the Armiger, it took a little more of his strength and the Sudden Death curses pushed back. But if he left his friends unarmed, they’d all die the instant the daemons attacked. Because the daemons would attack. They always did.

He forced his eyes open, squinting against their blinding flashlights. “Do it,” he said. “Take what you need.” They’d only have one shot at it. After that, Noctis knew the Crystal wouldn’t allow for anything else.

His friends stared at him.

“What?” Noctis asked. He had to close his eyes again before the light bore a hole through his skull.

“Your eyes,” Ignis said. “It’s like you’re Summoning. Except darker.”

“Darker?” Gladio said. “More like black. Like the Scourge.”

“Can’t we use a Remedy?” Prompto asked.

“No,” Noctis said. He didn’t have the strength for a more in-depth explanation. “Do it.”

It took a longer than it should have for his friends to arm themselves. With each rip of something from the Armiger, Noctis felt worse. His friends’ voices faded, the screams of the Reaper’s victims drowning out everything else. His thoughts wandered frantically, leaping from one half-finished thought to another. Breathing became a conscious effort, the only thing keeping him grounded. Between that and the pulsing migraine, it took every spare scrap of concentration he could spare to keep from vomiting. And all the while, his magic desperately held back the curses trying to kill him.

“Noct. Noct!” Ignis’ voice cut across the cacophony in his head. “You must stay with us.”

Noctis reached out. His hand caught something. Ignis. He held tight. “Trying.”

“We can’t leave him like this,” Prompto said.

Except they had to. They couldn’t do anything else to help him. Either the Crystal would do its job, or the Reapers’ magic would win. His friends needed to keep themselves safe. Reluctantly, he released his grip on Ignis. “Go.”

“Alright,” Gladio said. “Stay there and do not move.”

Noctis slumped. He no longer had any energy to spare. Sleep reached for him, but it didn’t take hold. The magic warring inside him kept him awake. His body quaked with the effort of not dying. He didn’t even have the energy to try opening his eyes now. He could only listen, and hope his friends stayed safe. Their voices were the tether keeping him from plummeting into the magic’s raging tide. If he held onto his friends’ voices, it kept the screaming and weeping at bay too.

“We need to take up defensive positions,” Ignis said. “I think we’re going to be here until morning.”

“Tch.” That was Gladio. Knowing him, he was weighing up their options and not liking the outcomes of a single one.

“Is it really his magic?” Prompto asked. “That fever is insane. It’s like he’s actually on fire. Can’t we just make a run for it? We need a doctor. Can’t people have seizures when their temperature’s that high?”

“The Crystal’s magic means his body can withstand things the rest of us couldn’t.” Ignis said. Noctis pictured him tapping his glasses up his nose, that nervous habit he’d never fully crushed. “The sooner we can get him to safety, the better.”

“Alright, if he can hold out, so can we,” Gladio said.

“Agreed,” Ignis said. “Prompto, take the high ground. If you see any kind of opening, tell us. You might need to guide us through if we have to get Noctis out of here. And alert us at the first sign of trouble. There’s nothing to keep the daemons from attacking us other than them not spotting us.”

“Got it,” Prompto said. “There’s a ladder up to an old walkway over there. I’ll use that.”

“I’ll watch our back,” Gladio said. “Ignis, stay close to Noct. Prompto’s our early warning system. You might be our last line of defence.”

For a moment, Noctis could only hear footsteps. Then he heard Prompto’s panicked gasp.

“There are a lot of daemons out there. Like, a lot a lot.” Prompto sounded nervous, but Noctis could hear how hard he worked to not panic. “It’s like they know we’re out here.”

“He’s right,” Gladio said. “There’s a fuckton of daemons out there. There’s a lot behind us too. They’ve cut us off. Any chance we can risk pulling something else out of the Armiger?”

“What exactly are you planning on doing?” Ignis asked.

“Blast our way out with Noct’s best Flasks,” Gladio said. “He’s got that Blizzaga. One more and we might make it out.”

Footsteps approached. “Did you hear all that?” It was Ignis.

It took Noctis a moment to rouse enough energy to speak. “One more,” he said. “Made a Flare. It’s in the Armiger.”

“Alright,” Ignis said. “Hold on.”

When Ignis reached into the Armiger, Noctis felt something give. The Reapers’ death spells reached deeper. Noctis’ heart faltered. He tried to breathe, but his lungs refused to pull in any air. The world whited out. Silence fell.

“Noct!”

He jolted awake, eyes flying open. Bright light stabbed into them. He cried out, slamming them closed again.

A hand rested on his chest. His ribs throbbed, like he’d taken a heavy blow. “Breathe.” It was Ignis, his voice so on edge it was hard to tell if he was telling Noctis to breathe or reminding himself.

It took a moment for Noctis’ memory to kick in. “Did you get it?”

“No,” Ignis said. “You had some kind of seizure. Your heart nearly stopped. The Armiger is out of reach until whatever this is has run its course.”

It was harder than ever to pull air into his lungs. And now he really was hot, burning alive. The Blizzaga flask didn’t help. He twisted, trying to find cooler ground. Nothing. No escape. The Crystal might be eradicating the Reapers’ magic, but it might burn him alive in its haste.

“Focus on your breathing,” Ignis said. “I’ll come up with a way out.”

Questions swirled through Noctis’ mind, but he couldn’t get them out. It was so hard to focus when he had such little energy to spare. And hot. He was so, so, so hot. Maybe the Crystal had shielded him from the fever before. He’d never felt like this in his life. The heat smothered him, burying him under so many layers he felt trapped. He couldn’t escape it.

“Calm, Noct,” Ignis said. His hand rested on Noctis’ head and started brushing gently through his hair. “Rest. We’ve got you. You’ve given us everything we need.”

Not everything. They hadn’t pulled the Flare Flask out. That thing was the most destructive magic he currently possessed. It had taken hours of careful manipulation to create it, one night a few weeks ago when his friends slept in the Longwhyte Motel but unending anxiety kept him awake. When he’d emerged from the trance he always slipped into when weaving magic, the Flare’s incredible destructive power stunned him. Noctis buried it deep in the Armiger, kept it secret and hidden. Now, it was their only hope of escape. Because Noctis could feel them out there. The daemons. Gathering. Like ants marching over his skin, every step they took left him itching. There were so many, edging closer. And closer. They would attack any minute.

“Ignis,” Noctis gasped. “You have to get the Flare Flask. It’s –”

“Stop worrying,” Ignis said. “It’s going to be alright. You know you can trust us.”

“No.” Noctis forced his eyes open. He squinted against the light. It hurt him, like it hurt the daemons. “They’re coming.”

Ignis frowned. “What?”

A whistle hit the air from high above. “Incoming!” Prompto shouted from above.

“Stay here,” Ignis told Noctis. “I’ll be back.”

“Wait,” Noctis said. He held out the Blizzaga Flask. “Take it.”

“No, Noct. It’s the only thing we have to bring your temperature down.”

“It could be the only thing that keeps you alive!” Noct snapped.

Ignis took it without a word. Noctis heard him run away. Moments later, he heard the sounds of his friends’ fighting. This was all his fault. If he’d fought better, the Reapers wouldn’t have done this to him and his friends wouldn’t be fighting without proper access to the Armiger. He risked opening his eyes. Now, without his friends’ flashlights blaring into his eyes, he managed to look around. Clouds obscured the stars overhead. He forced himself to sit, not caring when it led to more throwing up. His temperature crept up a notch. Dark splotches gathered at the edges of his vision. He couldn’t hold on. Not for much longer. Soon, he’d pass out, and he’d either awaken to find the Crystal and his magic had won out, or he’d never awaken again.

“Save your bullets, Prompto!” Gladio bellowed. Noctis watched him swing his sword through a pack of goblins, cutting them down. “You can’t pull anything else out of the Armiger.”

“Ah, I forgot! Sorry!” Prompto shouted back. Noctis saw him on a walkway overhead. “I’ll try and make my shots count.”

“Just be careful,” Ignis called. “Pick off anything we miss. And under no circumstances reach for anything in the Armiger. It nearly killed Noct a moment ago.”

“Keep that Blizzaga flask ready,” Gladio said. “We might need it if we’re overrun.”

“Hate to break it to you, Gladio, but it’s not a might,” Prompto said. “It’s a like a daemon tide coming our way.”

“Prompto’s right,” Ignis called back. “We need to clear a path ahead of us.”

“Might wanna think about behind us too,” Gladio said. “Can’t keep these Goblin bastards down.”

Wiping his mouth, Noctis pressed himself against a nearby wall. He couldn’t stay like this, dizzy and sick and useless. He needed to pull that Flare Flask out of the Armiger. Had to. He pulled in as deep a breath as he could and closed his eyes. He focused on the connection he always felt to the Crystal, closing himself off to the sounds of the fight. It left him with the wailing dead. His heart ached for them, but they weren’t his problem.

His magic was hard to grasp, like trying to hold a slimy bar of soap. Except the slime was the Reapers’ death magic, and it had wrapped itself around him. His light burned back against it, but daemon magic was tenacious. The Crystal couldn’t fight back fast enough, not for Noctis to take a stand and fight alongside his friends.

He had to reach the Armiger. It was all he could do.

Noctis recalled the earliest lessons with Dad, about visualising a never-ending room where he could keep everything he ever needed to hold onto.

_Think about what it is you want to find. Think of nothing else. Hold out your hand and there it will be._

He needed that Flare. They all did. They weren’t going to make it out alive if they didn’t. He had to have the strength to pull it out. Otherwise, everyone would die.

Noctis reached inward.

The Sudden Death magic fought back. From the darkness within, bony hands reached out to grab his light, tear him down, pull him into unending, inescapable death. He couldn’t go. Not now. There was too much to do, too many lives depending on him. Noctis clenched his teeth, the pain too great for him to catch his breath. He didn’t stop. He’d known pain worse than this. He reached into the endless room. Of everything he had in there, from relics of his childhood to lethal weapons, all he wanted was the Flare magic he’d created. That was his and his friends’ only hope.

Reach. _Reach_. It was in there. It had to be. He had to have it.

His fingers closed around glass. Noctis tore it out. His eyes flew open. The sounds of battle reached him again. He tried to find the breath to speak, but it was hard enough to stay conscious.

“Shit. Throw that Flask, Ignis!” Gladio shouted. “I can’t hold them back!”

“I’m coming!” Ignis called.

“I’m out of bullets!” Prompto shouted. “I’m coming down.”

“No, stay up there,” Ignis shouted back. He ran to Gladio’s side and launched the Blizzaga at the Goblins. “You’re safer up there.”

“But –”

“Not now, Prompto!” Gladio turned and ran back to where Ignis had come from. “We’ve got an Iron Giant incoming!”

“We need to fall back,” Ignis said. A blast of cold air rocked the night sky. “The goblins are down. We may find cover back here somewhere.”

Noctis grabbed a wall and hauled himself to his feet. The wall became his crutch. He dragged in what air he could, the Death spell now a vice around his lungs. “Prompto!”

“Noct! What is it?”

Noctis held out the Flare Flask.

“Dude! You’re a legend. Stay there, I’m coming down.”

Prompto was there in seconds. Noctis had to close his eyes, Prompto’s light so bright it felt like staring into the sun. Prompto grabbed the Flask. “Okay, I’m gonna use it and then we’re getting out of here, okay? Noct? Did you hear me?”

“Shut up and go!” Noctis gasped.

“Oh! Sorry!”

Noctis looked over the wall and saw Gladio squaring up to the Iron Giant. Behind that were Reapers. A field of Reapers.

Drawn to the death of an old battle site.

Noctis couldn’t hold on. He slid back to the ground just as Prompto shouted at Gladio to get back. “Noct got the Flare out!”

He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. His vision fizzled, cooked by the fever. His ears filled with the weeping of lost souls.

“I’m clear! Burn them!”

Bright, burning light slammed into Noctis’ eyes. It sent pain crashing through his head like an anvil to the skull.

He passed out, sinking into the depths of darkness.

* * *

Prompto watched the fire obliterate everything in its path. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. All that power contained in such a tiny flask. Incredible. And crazy. He’d never seen anything like it.

“Wow, Noct. You’re kinda terrifying,” Prompto said. Thinking of his friend, he looked down to the ground. “Noct!”

Noctis had collapsed.

Prompto slid down the ladder and hit the ground running. He reached Noctis before the others. He grabbed his friend. “Shit!” He couldn’t deal with how high Noctis’ temperature was. How could anyone survive that? There was no way this could be good for him. “Noct? Noct, wake up!”

Ignis and Gladio came over. Prompto looked up at them. “He’s really, really hot.”

“Is he breathing?” Ignis asked.

Prompto checked, hand shaking. “Yeah, but I think we need to –”

“Go,” Gladio said. “This is our only chance. That Flare gave us an opening.” He grabbed Noctis and threw him over his shoulders. “Move! Now!”

They ran, and they didn’t stop until they reached the Prairie Outpost. It was empty, the Hunters usually stationed there all busy with their own quests. Gladio marched into the caravan. He didn’t care who was using it. “Ignis, turn the shower on!”

Ignis did so, making sure the water ran tepid. He moved aside and Gladio entered, shifting Noctis into his arms under the shower. He pulled Noctis’ jacket off, tossing it aside. The heat rolling off of him went beyond belief. “Hold on, Noct.” Gladio sat them down, making sure the water washed over Noctis. He placed his hand against Noctis’ forehead. Nothing. His temperature stayed steady. He panted for breath, like he was the one who’d run back from the ruins. Noctis’ cheeks were a frightening shade of red, and yet despite the heat, he wasn’t sweating.

“Come on, Noct. Don’t give in.”

Reaching up, Gladio twisted the dial and brought the shower’s temperature down. He endured the cold. Noctis didn’t react at all, not even when Gladio pulled open one of his eyelids to check his irises. The odd purple and black taint remained, but the more familiar blue of the Crystal’s magic shone through.

Time crawled by. Noctis didn’t stir. His pulse thundered under Gladio’s fingertips, his breathing too shallow and rapid to be healthy. Brushing long strands of damp black hair aside, Gladio put the back of his hand on Noctis’ forehead again. Fear tried to get the better of him no matter how hard he willed it away. Noctis’ fever, his magic, seemed to be cooking him alive. Gladio pulled his hand back. This wasn’t going to work. “Ignis, we can’t stay here. He needs a doctor. We don’t have anything to deal with a fever this high, and I don’t care how much strength the Crystal lends him, he’s not gonna survive this without help.”

Ignis nodded. “I’ll call Cor. He’ll know of a doctor versed in treating members of the Royal Family.” He stepped away, phone pressed to his ear.

“Isn’t there anything else we can do?” Prompto asked, hovering in the bathroom’s doorway.

“Pray that the Astrals are watching over him,” Gladio said. “And find anything we can use for cold compresses. If we have to drive, we’re gonna have to keep him cool.”

“Got it.” Prompto disappeared.

Gladio held Noctis. “You’re gonna be okay,” he told his unconscious friend. “It’ll take more than a bunch of Reapers to bring you down.”

He stayed there in the shower until Ignis returned. He nodded to Gladio. “I know where we need to go.”

“Where?” Gladio asked.

Ignis straightened, a sure sign he was crushing his anxiety as hard as Gladio smashed his own. “Lestallum.”

Gladio clenched his teeth. “Make sure Prompto finds some ice for the trip.”

* * *

It was the itch that woke him up. In the crook of his elbow. He moved to scratch it, only for his fingers to land on a bandage instead. What was it? Noctis cracked his eyes open. Darkness greeted him, pure and unbroken. Where was he? He blinked. No headache. That felt good. He didn’t feel so dizzy either. He couldn’t hear any screaming or crying either, just the distant hubbub of voices. That soothed him. Reaching for the itch again, he found himself attached to an IV. Vague panic stirred in his head. What was it drugging him? Was that why he felt so tired? And why had they left him somewhere so dark? Noctis couldn’t find the energy to panic, not when the voices nearby sounded so… so… _normal._ He could even hear laughter coming from nearby. So… safe? He was safe? And he was exhausted. More than he could remember being in a long, long time. He couldn’t keep his eyes open –

Music. Nearby. Noctis’ eyes opened. Light. He could see the room now, although it was still shaded. He reached for the itch, and this time, his eyes followed the plastic tubing to a bag hanging over him, dripping away. It was clear. Maybe just saline? His eyes wouldn’t focus enough for him to read the writing on the side. Why did he need it? His memory told him. The Reapers. The magic. Looked like the Crystal won out. No wonder he felt so washed out.

Still, he had to find the others. Pulling himself upright, Noctis shivered as the blanket slid free. He wasn’t wearing anything except his boxers. He grabbed the blankets, pulling them up. T-shirt. He needed a t-shirt. Looking for any sign of one, Noctis saw he was in a small medical room. From the number of fans surrounding him, he figured he was in Lestallum. A blind covered the window, although someone had opened it a little to let in a slither of light.

When had they come here? How long had he been out?

A door opened. Noctis turned and saw Prompto stepping in.

“Hey, you’re awake!” Prompto hurried to Noctis’ bedside. “How d’you feel?”

Noctis kept the blankets wrapped tightly around him. “I need a t-shirt.”

“Wow, you’re still really flushed. You must still have a fever.” Prompto slapped a hand against Noctis’ forehead. “Nope. Way cooler than before. Seriously, man, I thought you were gonna combust in front of us. The doctor said if we hadn’t got to her when we did, your brain would’ve cooked itself. Cor helped us find her. He knew she retired out here a while back. Figured we’d need someone who knew how to treat people with Crystal connections. She said she’d never seen anyone burning up like you. Not your dad or your granddad. You’re on the fourth bag of her ‘Cooling Down Lucian Royals’ formula. Your temperature was nearly over one hundred and ten when we got here. One ten! We had to leave you in a pitch black room until this morning because you had some kind of partially daemonic reaction to sunlight. Noct, you’re weird, man. Seriously weird.”

Noctis made sure the blanket stayed tucked up to his chin. “Seriously, Prompto, I need a t-shirt.”

“Sure, sure.” Prompto turned around, dug into a bag next to the bed, and tossed one at Noctis. It hit him in the face. “Oh, sorry! You’re all cocooned there.”

Noctis pulled his t-shirt on as fast as he could. He relaxed, leaving the blankets to drop into his lap. “Are you okay? You didn’t get hurt by the daemons, did you?”

“Me? I’m fine. Ignis and Gladio, too. Gladio’s with Iris and Ignis is checking in with the doctor. I better go tell them you’re awake. Oh, and Takka promised us we can still have that feast when you’re up to travelling.”

“Uh, okay,” Noctis said.

Except instead of leaving, Prompto sat next to him. “You scared me.”

Noctis nudged him. “Sorry. But better me than any of you.” The Crystal really did take care of its own. In a really unpleasant way.

“Yeah, I know,” Prompto said. “The doctor said it’s just part of your magic. It’s like an extra immune system. A really intense one.”

“I guess so,” Noctis said. “Dad told me about it once, about how the Crystal will fight off invading magic, but this is the first time I really dealt with it.” And last, he hoped.

“Are you okay though? Can you reach the Armiger again? Ignis told us not to try until you were awake and we could ask.” Prompto stretched and sighed happily. “It’s been great to have a legit excuse to take a couple of days off from hunting.”

A couple of days? Noctis couldn’t believe he’d been out that long.

“Noct? Armiger?”

“Oh. Right.” Noctis tried, and a Potion sprung into his hand with the tiniest of efforts. He reached out to his connection to the Crystal, and found it to be clear, strong and back to normal. What a relief. “All good.” He sent the Potion back into the Armiger.

“Okay great, because I think Gladio’s gonna lecture you about not warping into Reapers on your own again.”

“Ugh.” Noctis laid down and closed his eyes. “He can wait.” Maybe more sleep wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Wanna play King’s Knight?” Prompto asked.

“No, I’m tired.”

“You’ve slept for, like, forty hours. Play a few games with me. I’m booooored!”

Noctis smiled and yawned. “Later.”

“Fine.” Prompto stood up. “I’ll go tell the doctor you woke up. I bet she can’t wait to poke and prod you.”

Noctis closed his eyes. “I’ll be here,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! <3 I'm hopping over to the KH fandom for the next two weeks, but I will return! Until then, I'm always on [Tumblr!](https://breakfastteatime.tumblr.com/)


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